Burn a Little Brighter
by Nova802
Summary: "This, what she's asking him for from up through those ridiculous eyelashes, this has bad idea and regrets written all over it." Wade's thoughts during a few key scenes in 2x21 and 2x22. One-shot.


**_A/N: I've only started watching Hart of Dixie over the last month or so, but lordy, Zoe and Wade have chemistry in spades! I hope you enjoy this little exploration into where Wade's head is at during 'I'm Moving On' and 'On the Road Again'! Spoilers through 2x22. Standard disclaimer. _**

* * *

**Burn a Little Brighter**

* * *

Wade is shocked as shit to see what seems like the whole town pouring into the Rammer Jammer all filled up to the brim with lumber and tools and good will. Maybe him and Lemon will actually get a chance to turn this place around. Maybe, just maybe, this ain't some Kinsella pipe dream that only Crazy Earl's no-good son could have come up with.

(He doesn't bother to look for Doc in the crowd, though. There are limits to the luck a man can expect in this life.)

* * *

Later, he's bone tired and aching in places he wasn't sure he had as he rounds the corner of the drive but that all melts away the second he sees her.

Miss Zoe Hart, wine glass in hand, hair down and kinda mussed and a blanket wrapped around her in a way that makes him wonder what's going on underneath and the whole thing, it's like a sucker punch to the gut. (Not that he don't deserve it.)

Once upon a time she'da been been waiting there for him.

He teases her because it's his long-standing policy that any sorta attention from her is preferable to being ignored but she shuts him down with a single gesture.

"I've had a very hard night and I feel terrible. So, for a while tonight, I'd like to feel better and not talk."

This, what she's asking him for from up through those ridiculous eyelashes, this has bad idea and regrets written all over it.

Thing is, he's got options. He could say something right there and then to piss her off, put that spark that he likes back in her eye and watch her march off into the house alone. He could distract her with food or another drink, or one of those movies she likes, Casablanca or some crappy foreign flick with subtitles. Hell, he could just pour her into bed and leave her there. What with the wine she's put away, she won't be awake long.

Instead, he follows her into the house, follows those sad, dark eyes without a word, just like she'd asked.

He tells himself it's because he owes it to her. He's the one who hurt her, who fucked it all up and so what if she wants to feel better for a little while? He can do that. He knows every inch of her body, knows how bring her up so high, she forgets her own name, and what's so wrong about helping her out through one shitty night?

(Never mind that he's felt like Zoe Hart's regret before and honestly, it feels like hell.)

Really though it's hope that inevitably pulls him in after her. Hope that has him sliding the blanket from her shoulders and kissing a soft line down the column of her throat. Hope that has him tracing slow circles along her hip-bones while she writhes above him. 'Cause maybe this is the start of something, a second chance. Could be he's a dumbass for even thinking it but isn't this how it all began?

* * *

When they're done, she doesn't ask him to leave and that tiny spark burns a little brighter.

* * *

He wakes up with the smell of her on his skin and his arm wrapped around her and naturally, he's thinking about the many pleasant ways he could be waking her up but he can't quite bring himself to do it. Too chicken-shit to risk the look in her eyes just yet. So he hits the shower, the steam and the fruity scent of her girly shampoo not doing anything to settle him.

_Quit stalling, Kinsella._

He finally turns the tap off and snags one of those fancy Egyptian cotton towels she likes. His face is clouded and indistinct in the mirror but he takes a breath and reminds himself that she wants him here. That's gotta mean something.

It works for about thirty seconds, right up until he glances out the window only to see George Tucker all the way up the end of the drive, bashful smile warring with the ready confidence in the man's gait and the remaining pieces of Zoe's bad night fall into place.

This wasn't about them, or the way he hurt her, or the ways he's been trying to show her that he's getting his shit together. No, it's about her and Golden Boy, _again_.

Maybe he should leg it out the window and leave them to the happy ending that out of this whole goddamned town, only the two of them seem able to see.

Or you know what? Screw that.

She wants him here, all right. Wants him for something anyway and you know what? That's good, that's fine, it's _easier_ this way. After a while, he probably won't even remember wanting anything else.

He hitches the towel a little lower down on his hips, fixes that church-social smile on his face and heads back into her bedroom.

* * *

Honestly? It ain't like the six-pack's the brightest idea he's ever had. Could be Tucker's got a point about that self-destructive streak.

* * *

"Are you still in love with her?"

Lemon Breeland is a witch. No, a goddamned mind-reader, that's what she is. He can feel his face flushing and he knows he's squirming uncomfortably under her exasperated gaze. What kinda bullshit question is that? Turns out that Lemon is a pretty decent business partner, but it ain't like he's gonna go spilling his guts out all over the place. He barely admitted it to Lavon and lord knows the Mayor has had his number since day one. Hell, for that matter, he never even found the balls to tell Zoe, which truth be told is kinda a pattern with him.

He's spent so much time protecting himself, pretending that he doesn't give a rat's ass.

But Lemon is right. He _has_ changed, stuck with something hard, even when it's falling down around his ears, tried to own his screw-ups rather than forgetting his troubles with whatever warm and willing body that crosses his path. He's even talking about his feelings though given who he's talking to, that one kind of wants to make him smack his head extra hard on the steering column.

And then for some reason, he's hearing ol' Crazy Earl's voice whispering in his ear, half drowning out Crickett's excited shriek over the phone.

'_She can't hear what you ain't never been willing to tell her, boy_.'

Shut up, Dad.

Zoe's name snaps him to back to attention and two seconds later, it's a classic Earl move that has him pull the car hard to the left in a u-turn, the tires screaming almost as loud as Lemon, almost as loud as his own heartbeat drumming in his chest because for the first time in months, he knows he's doing the right thing. And for once in his damn life, the universe has apparently decided to agree with him because Quimby is only 20 minutes away and everything in him is telling him that it's gotta be _now_.

His old man might only be in his head, but that don't make him wrong; it's well past time to stop pretending. He could be good for her. He could be _everything_ for her. Once and for all with Zoe Hart, he's going let her know exactly where he stands.

* * *

Leaning up against that fence and watching her walk away from him, he's got to admit that it didn't go exactly like he'd hoped. Fact is, he's pretty sure he doesn't want to see her walking away from him ever, but he's gonna push that thought for down the road a bit. Baby-steps and all.

Three months without her. Even through the worst of everything, when she was hating his guts and burning his shit, he always took some kind of strange comfort in knowing that she was right across the pond and now she'll be in New York for the whole summer. He should feel like crap and he does really, but at the same time, there it is, that spark of hope burning hotter now, sustaining him.

He knows Zoe. She's coming back. And what's more, he finally knows himself. Come this fall, she might step off that plane and straight into his arms but he tends to doubt it-the two of them never exactly followed the easy path. But that something between them, it's love and he's going to fight for it.

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**_A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think!_**


End file.
